Sticks, Stones, and Broken Bones
by Artemis's Liege
Summary: Santana loves Quinn yet hates her at the same time. Finn loves Quinn. And Quinn loves only herself, definitely not Finn, but maybe, sometimes, Santana.


**Disclaimer:** Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan. No profit is being made from this page.

**Edit:** This is a re-post due to several revisions.

**Author's Note:** The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

**Rating: T, for mentions of sexual situations, mild profanity, and implied child abuse.**

**Timeline:** After "Preggers", before "The Rhodes Not Taken."

**Continuity Note:** This story ignores Quinn's canon background in "Born This Way."

* * *

The only sound in the girls' locker room was the _drip_, _drip_ of the water trickling down from the faucet head that Santana had just switched off. With a shudder, she grabbed the baby blue towel patterned with pale pink sea turtles that Brittany had given her over the summer and wrapped it around her shivering body. She shoved her feet into her rubber Adidas flip-flops and proceeded out of the shower area to her locker, favoring her right leg slightly.

Rummaging through her floral sports bag, she quickly found her street clothes and dressed as fluidly as she could, doing her best to prevent the material from rubbing against her upper right leg.

As much as she loved her Cheerios uniform, she didn't have enough energy to feel the normal rush of pride when she wore it, so she rejected a clean uniform in preference to a comfortable pair of Rocket Dogs, vintage jeans, a yellow shirt and a red sweatshirt with a few pink heart patches on the front, which her father had given her almost . . . Santana stared at the mirror as she zipped the front of her sweatshirt closed. Jesus, had that really now been almost a year ago?

A sigh escaped from her lips as she wearily strode closer to the mirror to comb her hair instantly turned into a hiss of pain as she forgot herself and carelessly let the comb whack against her right thigh.

Music suddenly rang out in the empty locker room- "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield.

For a moment, Santana continued to gently pull the comb through her long, dark hair, before casting her eyes about the mirror.

"I'm definitely not going to wait around for you to talk, Quinn, so if you have something to say to me, then make like Nike and just do it." She turned to scan the rest of the room.

The leaky showerhead dripped in the ensuing silence before Quinn emerged from behind a locker bank.

"So who was calling?" Santana asked caustically. "Was it Hudson? Aren't you going to take the call? Isn't that what you always do when you're with me?"

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Quinn asked.

"As long as I need to," Santana retorted.

There was a tense pause, before Quinn said quietly, "You know, someone's going to find out one of these days."

Santana froze. "What are you talking about?"

"The reason you told Kirsten to go ahead to the showers while you took her place putting the equipment away after practice." Quinn folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at Santana. "So that you could come in late and then no one would see the bruises and ask questions. What did she do to you this time?"

Santana felt every muscle in her body tensing. "Shut up, Quinn."

"'Shut up'?" Quinn's eyes flashed with anger and she put her hands on her hips. "Here I am, trying to help you, and the only thing you can do is tell me to 'shut up'?"

"I didn't ask for your help, Quinn, and furthermore, I don't need it," Santana snapped.

Quinn scoffed. "Listen to yourself. How can you say that? Your heinous bitch of a stepmother goes psycho on you every now and then, physically hurting you, and you just want to ignore it? Forget it, Santana. You need to tell someone about this. I-"

"And what _you_ need to do is shut the hell up and mind your own damn business," Santana snarled.

"So now you're using profanity with me. Great," Quinn said in a long-suffering tone. "You know what, Santana? I don't why I even bother to try and help you. Every once in a while when Laura snaps and has whatever type of breakdown she seems to experience around you, she goes crazy and hurts you, I tell you to go for help to Ms. Pillsbury or someone else- _anyone_ else- and this is what you have to say?"

It felt as if all the air had been forced from her lungs as Santana gazed at Quinn. "Since when have you cared, _Quinnie_? I thought that you only had eyes for Hudson. Isn't he why you're constantly ditching me and breaking our plans?"

Quinn threw up her hands. "It's so stupid that in the middle of something so serious, you're worried about something so petty!"

"You're not denying it," Santana pointed out in satisfaction.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Quinn demanded, taking a few steps forward so that she was within an arm's length of Santana. "If you don't tell anyone, this isn't going to get any better! Do you understand that? Your father isn't going to help you with this. He doesn't know what's going on; he doesn't even know _you_. Just look at this." She reached out and tugged on the zipper of Santana's sweatshirt. "He has no idea what your tastes are, or what you like and dislike, because he never spends any time around you. He's always working at that damn hospital! He's not going to find out unless you tell him! You're going to have to help yourself with this one, Santana, instead of waiting around for someone to rescue you!"

The conversation had set her on the defensive, and Santana jerked out of Quinn's grasp. "So what am I supposed to do, Quinn? Tell Ms. Pillsbury about this, and invite Social Services to look into my life? To show everyone that I'm too pathetic to even defend myself? So everyone sees me as a weakling who can't manage her own family? No. It's not happening."

"It's going to happen!" Quinn snapped, her anger apparent. "What did she do to you this time? Did she use the frying pan again and swing at you? Or has she gotten more creative since the last beating?"

Santana exhaled deeply. "Leave this alone, Quinn."

"No!" Quinn said vehemently. "I can't do that, Santana, because there's no reason why you should have to put up with this! If you don't tell anyone, then-" Quinn faltered in the middle of her sentence and her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed on her feet.

"Quinn!" Santana exclaimed, lunging forward to catch her. She wrapped one arm around her waist to support the other girl, and guided her to sit on the bench between the rows of lockers. "Here, sit down."

Quinn complied, looking shaken. Her face was pale, and her breathing seemed too rapid.

"You'd better call Hudson back," Santana said, her voice very low. "He must be worried about his babymama."

Panic, horror, and shock mixed together on Quinn's pretty features. "His babym- I'm not- what -" she shook her head, "how did you know?"

"I didn't," Santana said simply as she rose. "I do now, though."

"Don't tell my parents," Quinn said immediately.

"Yeah, I'd think they'd be pretty pissed that you went and got yourself knocked up." Santana shook her head. "I know us Catholics are against birth control, but couldn't you have at least tried to use _something_?"

"Santana -"

"Here's the deal, Quinn: don't tell anyone about me, and I won't tell anyone about you."

Quinn sent her a look of anger and disgust. "Just tell someone, Santana. It's not that hard."

"You know what, Quinn?" Santana gave her a sarcastic smile. "I'm not like you. I don't enjoy playing the role of a victim and making everybody feel sorry for me. I'd rather just tough it out than admit to somebody that I'm pathetic enough to allow this to happen to me."

Santana turned on her heel and strode to the door.

"Yeah, just walk away, Santana!" Quinn yelled after her. "That's what you do best! That and –"

Santana didn't hear the rest of the sentence, because the door thudded shut behind her, cutting Quinn off mid-sentence.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't picture Laura, Santana's stepmother, as some horribly abusive monster. I see her as a woman who is stressed by her job and running a household, and loses patience with Santana, doesn't control herself and hits her every once in a while. With that said, Laura is absolutely wrong in her actions, even if she's upset with Santana's attitude.

Quinn's religion: In my backstory for Quinn and Santana, I have them meeting at a Catholic church camp when they were in the second grade. I assume that Quinn is Catholic because she had a statuette of the Blessed Virgin Mary in her room in "**Never Been Kissed**", and according to several Catholics I know, only Catholics would have figurines of Mary, because all other Christian faiths just see her as a mortal woman and no one very special.

However, the Chastity Ball and Celibacy Club seems more like Evangelical Protestantism to me. But I guess it's possible that the writers of Glee don't know that much about religion, and accidentally confuses the aspects of the different divisions of Christianity. If that's the case, I guess it's up for anyone interpretation of Quinn's religion unless the show's writers confirm it.

Santana's actions: If you've read my Glee stories "Confrontation and Conversation" and "Breakdown", then you'll recognize that Santana has a bad habit of walking away from her problems and just trying to ignore the situation. In the show, she's much more direct, such as attacking Quinn for taking the Cheerios Captin position back, but for this situation, when she's virtually powerless, I don't think she would react that way. Ithink Santana should go for help, but she's very stubborn, and refuses to tell anyone about her problems.

So let me know what you think. Concrit is always appreciated, but seriously, if you review, comment on something else besides the characters' religions.


End file.
